


Turning Points

by opalmatrix



Category: Ballet Shoes - Streatfield
Genre: Aged-Up Character, Aging, Career, Family, Female Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Sisters, Yuletide, Yuletide 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a chilly night late in 1956, Pauline, Petrova, and Posy meet over dinner for the first time in five years and rediscover what having sisters can mean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Points

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beatrice_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatrice_Otter/gifts).



> **Notes:** The later careers of the Fossil sisters, after the end of _Ballet Shoes_, were covered by Streatfield herself at 8 years out (_Curtain Up_, a/k/a _Theater Shoes_) and at 12 or 13 years out (_The Painted Garden_, a/k/a _Movie Shoes_), which have them either offstage (but discussed) or as secondary characters, so I've taken the timeline farther on. Many thanks to my beta team: [**Rush-that-Speaks**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rush_That_Speaks/pseuds/Rush_That_Speaks), [**smillaraaq**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Smillaraaq/pseuds/Smillaraaq), [**Edo no Hana**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/pseuds/Edonohana), and my sister Amy!

* * *

**Top of the Town**   
_by Loretta Casey_

_New York, N.Y., November 30, 1956 - _ Fans of Pauline Fossil have already reported seeing their idol coming and going at the Baron Theater, where George Chapman's holiday production of "Tweifth Night" is in rehearsal. We must confess that the idea of La Belle Pauline playing Viola did give your Top of the Town correspondent thoughts of mutton dressed as lamb, but her close-ups in this year's hit "His Sister's Keeper" showed us that the bloom is not yet off this English rose ... .

* * *

Dear Metropolitan Ballet Subscriber:

We're pleased to report that this year's holiday production will be something the whole family can enjoy: the perennial favorite "The Nutcracker Suite" will be presented with new choreography by Yves Pelletier, sumptuous costumes by Liliana d'Arco, and a very special Sugarplum Fairy: Posy Fossil, the Metropolitan's guest artiste ... .

* * *

Petrova -

You are just ace! The folks will be really happy to see me for Xmas. I owe you big time for swapping leave - if you ever need someone to cover for you, I'm your man. Here's wishing you clear skies for your flight down, and have a great time with your sisters in the Big Apple!

\- Doug

* * *

Pauline was trying not to fidget with her wristwatch. She wished Posy or Petrova would arrive. Even though the Hotel Lorraine's guests were too well-mannered to stare at celebrities in the dining room, she still felt on display. This trendy suit, with its short, unstructured double-breasted jacket, was probably a mistake. She stopped herself from tugging at the jacket's hem and instead read the menu for the third time.

"Pauline!"

She managed not to knock over her water glass. Posy laughed as she sat down across from her eldest sister. "They really must have an interesting menu at your hotel! You didn't notice me at all!"

Posy's red-gold curls were as vibrant as ever, contrasting beautifully with a deep green hairband that matched her tailored jacket. Her full beige and green plaid skirt might not be the latest thing, but it suited her, as did her girlish hairstyle. "I'm so glad you haven't done anything stupid with your hair, Posy."

"It would be such a scandal if I did, wouldn't it? A prima ballerina with an Italian crop! No, I have to keep it long enough to knot it up properly for the stage, but I can't be bothered with it when I'm off. So what's so fascinating in that menu?"

"Nothing, really! I was getting impatient for you to arrive and didn't want to be seen fidgeting, so I was forcing myself to translate all the French to German. My German is appalling, so it kept me quite busy."

"Really, Pauline! It's not as though I were actually late."

"No, you were five minutes early. Petrova will be, though, in just a moment."

"She's probably picking up bad habits from those boffins at her aeroplane lab."

"_Boffins?_ What a word! Posy, where do you learn these things? What would Nana say?"

Posy gave her a comical look. "You needn't fret, nor should Nana - it just means an engineer or a sciences professor."

Pauline glanced at the entrance again. The maître d'hôtel seemed to be having a heated discussion with a slim young man in a modish grey suit. Posy swiveled in her seat to see what her sister was watching and then leapt to her feet and waved. "Petrova! Here we are!"

The maître d'hôtel shrugged, clearly washing his hands of the whole thing. Pauline watched her middle sister cross the plush red carpet. Heads turned as she passed. Petrova's dark hair was cut in exactly the same boyishly short style that Posy had just joked about. From the hips up, her grey suit was an echo of Pauline's cornflower blue one, but instead of the expected slim skirt, she was wearing tailored trousers. Pauline had almost completely got out of the habit of blushing in public, but she felt heat rising in her cheeks as many of the diners in the huge dining room turned to watch this oddly dressed woman approaching Pauline Fossil's table. _What would people be thinking?_

Posy clearly had no such concerns. She threw her arms around Petrova's neck. "There you are! I was wondering if you'd got lost. I do like your hair like that!"

A little color came into Petrova's sallow cheeks, and she smiled as she returned Posy's hug. Posy pulled out a chair, and Petrova sat down with an anxious glance that made Pauline wonder what her own face looked like. She tried to halt her words, but they tumbled out anyway: "Petrova Fossil, what on earth are you wearing?"

Petrova dropped her eyes to the table, but she spoke firmly. "I hadn't any dresses right for New York, and really, I almost always wear trousers these days. This is quite the smartest thing I own -"

Posy interrupted her: "Pauline Fossil, what in the world are you saying? Why shouldn't she wear trousers if that's what she likes? I think she looks smashing, and it's the first time you've seen her in years. I can't believe that you said that!"

Pauline turned quite red. She remembered the advice she'd given to young Rachel Winter, more than five years ago in Hollywood: "Be like Posy - know what you want and scorn all the things that aren't part of what you want." And here she was, worrying about being seen at a good restaurant with a woman wearing trousers. When had she become so conventional? Her eyes prickled with tears, which made her feel even more ashamed. Petrova reached over and patted her arm awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it, Pauline - I'm used to it."

Pauline located her handkerchief and blew her nose. "But not from me! Oh, Petrova - Posy's right, you look smashing. I'm thinking too much about other people these days."

At that moment, the waiter came bustling up. "Your party is complete? Are mesdames ready to order?"

Pauline found that both the others were looking at her. "Oh, why not?" she said, as calmly as she could. "Why don't we have starters? I'd like the mixed vegetable salad vinaigrette, and the baked Virginia ham to follow."

"Shrimp cocktail for me," said Posy. "And then the roasted chicken."

"French onion soup, and the filet mignon, medium rare," said Petrova.

"Would any of you ladies care for a cocktail? Or perhaps some wine with dinner?"

Pauline looked at the other two. Posy shrugged and Petrova shook her head. "Not now, thank you," said Pauline.

Posy waited until the man had gone off to the kitchen and then raised her eyebrows at Pauline. "Whatever's the matter? Why would you care what anyone thinks about Petrova's clothes?"

Pauline sighed. "Well ... look, this may not make any sense, but I've become a bit worried about the state of my career."

"But everyone's excited to see you in Shakespeare again, here in New York," protested Petrova.

"And you love 'Twelfth Night," added Posy. "Which are you playing this time - Viola or Olivia?"

"Neither."

They stared at her. "Oh!" said Petrova, after a moment. "You've taken the comedienne role - Maria."

Pauline nodded.

"You're playing the _maid_?" asked Posy, surprised. "Why?"

"Posy, look at me. I'm nearly thirty-six years old. Mr. Chapman offered me Viola, and I could have laughed. Olivia would have been safe enough - but for how much longer? It's the same in the movies: I've been playing one romantic part after the other, and I'm always the good girl, too. For the moment, even the rudest gossip columnists are saying my looks are holding, but now they sound surprised about it. I need to prove myself in some other sorts of parts, or I'm going to wake up one of these mornings to find myself a has-been."

"You're still beautiful, Pauline," said Petrova, warmly.

"But for how long?"

As they considered this, the waiter arrived back with their first courses and a basket of hot bread rolls.

"That soup smells wonderful, Petrova," said Posy.

"It's all right - a bit salty, though. You could have ordered it yourself, you know."

"Yes, but if a place has shrimp cocktail on the menu, I must have it." Posy pinned one of her shrimps with the tiny fork, neatly nipped its tail off with her knife, and doused the shrimp in fiery red sauce. "Pauline, I have to say you're being very clever about this career business. I've been doing some thinking along those lines myself."

"Really? But you're only just thirty-two," said Pauline.

"I can see the end in sight, though. A great actress can last for decades - yes, I remember Madame Moulin's story! '_N'oubliez jamais qu'une actrice continue á apprende_ \- and all that. But what I told her then is just as true now: you can't be a first-class dancer for very many years. Don't you remember, I lost two weeks on tour last year because of an injury? I didn't fall down or anything, Pauline. My right knee just hasn't been itself for - oh, I don't know, maybe two years. I have to be ever so careful when I limber up these days." Posy popped the shrimp into her mouth.

Petrova placed her soup spoon carefully onto the saucer beneath her bowl. "Oh, Posy! What horrid luck. What will you do if you can't dance?"

"Well, that's the question, isn't it? I'm not any good at choreography, which would be the obvious thing, and although there are some good character roles, many of them have always been played by men."

"What about teaching?" asked Pauline.

Posy laughed. "Me? A teacher? You know what a little beast I was in ballet class! Don't you remember what I did to poor Theo, cutting up and making the other girls laugh in the seniors class? Only Madame Fidolia and Monsieur Manoff ever had a chance with me!"

"But Posy, that's exactly why it might work," said Petrova, earnestly. "Those imitations of yours - you can use them to show the students exactly how they're going wrong, and then how it looks when it's done right. Making them laugh sometimes would just keep their attention all the better."

"She's right, Posy," said Pauline. "I believe you could be a very good teacher - the sort that the girls will remember all their lives. I can just see them saying to each other 'You know, I never understood the difference between the first and second arabesque until Miss Fossil showed us. She makes it so easy to understand, and she's not at all stuck-up.'"

Posy seemed to be very busy dismembering her last shrimp. "I guess I could take a shot at it," she said at last. "After the 'Nutcracker' comes off, the Met Ballet director wants me to do some master classes for the most promising members of the corps de ballet. I haven't yet turned him him down. It won't hurt to give it a try."

Pauline smiled. "You might even like it, you know."

The waiter came up with their entrees then, and their starter plates and bowls were whisked off. Posy poked at the carrots that accompanied her chicken and wrinkled her nose. "Restaurants are always trying to get me to eat carrots - they're as bad as Nana. Tell us something about the aeroplane lab up in Canada, Petrova. You've spent all this time listening to our theatrical woes."

Petrova seemed to be reading the hallmark on her steak knife. "Oh ... well, we're working on our third-generation jet engine for passenger planes."

"I guess I don't understand it properly," said Pauline "but you've been working on jet engines since you were on the team that made that first jet passenger aeroplane at LeRochlin back in England. Doesn't it get boring?"

"Oh, no! It's fascinating how small changes in the shape or weight of a part can give a big boost to how efficiently the engine works. And more efficiency means the plane needs less fuel, so it can go farther without coming down to fill up."

"Still, you've been at it a long time. Don't you get your own lab or something eventually?"

All the happiness went out of Petrova's face. "Oh, I suppose so. But I don't mind being part of a team."

"Except you sound as if you do," said Posy. "Come on, you're not fooling anyone. What's up?"

Petrova cut off a tiny corner of steak. "Most of them seem to think a woman can't lead a team. "

"Oh, really!" said Pauline, crossly. "That's so stupid - weren't you the senior engineer on this last project?"

Petrova swallowed and took a sip of water. "Of course I was. But that doesn't stop them from thinking that any woman is eventually going to go off and get married and have children - as if I would! And the trouble is, they can pretend it's not because I'm female. Just about all the other researchers have advanced degrees in engineering or physics. And here I am, not even a Bachelor of Science."

"That's true ... but you did so much in the war, and you're terribly clever."

"But Pauline, the war was more than ten years ago. When the big chiefs at Northland are trying to get their investors to put up money for a new aircraft project, they write up all the talent they plan to have working on it, and say what they've done and where they got their training. Some woman without even a university degree who ferried and fixed planes in the Second World War just doesn't stack up well with these fellows with masters and doctoral degrees from the top schools - even if that woman did work on the world's first passenger jet. And besides, even my work at LeRochlin was seven years ago. I'm a Fossil in more ways than one at Northland these days."

Posy had broken open her potato and was spreading some butter onto it. Suddenly she looked up. "You know, after the war, quite a lot of people went back to school, even though they were years older than university students usually are. Is there any reason you shouldn't go to school now? It sounds like you're not getting an awful lot out of this project."

Petrova traced a design on the tablecloth with her fingernail. "Actually, my roommate Liza said the same thing. But she's a mathematician herself, so it seems natural to her. I wanted to hear what you two thought. Pauline, does the idea of my going to university at this age make any sense? I'm not one of these bluestocking girls who have been in college preparatory classes since they were fourteen."

"Those same girls probably don't know an awful lot about hard work," said Pauline. "That ought to count for something. But I don't know much about Canadian or even American universities. Do the top places take women?"

"Liza says that the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, near Boston, has had women students for ages. They even have a scholarly society for women engineers."

"Well, there you are! I expect you need letters of recommendation and that sort of thing, though. You said that 'most of them' at Northland didn't seem to think a woman can do this sort of work. Does that mean that some of them do?"

Petrova took a deep breath. "Yes. Dr. Valensi put my name up for project chief last year, but he was voted down. He's a brick; I'm sure he would write a recommendation. Pauline, do you really think this idea makes sense?"

"More than sense - I think it's brilliant. You were always so good at mathematics, Petrova. You should do splendidly."

"That's right!" said Posy. "And think how proud Dr. Smith would be, with her pupil at a top American school!"

Petrova smiled at last. "All right, then! I'll give it my best shot. There are going to be exams to take to qualify, so I'd better get on with it."

The waiter was hovering nearby again. "Would mesdames care for dessert?"

"Only coffee for me," said Posy. "But don't let that stop you two."

"I'm game," said Petrova. "What's on tonight?"

"We have a gâteau au chocolat; macaroon cream with poached apples; lemon Bavarian cream; cherries Jubilee; creme de menthe parfait; profiterole au chocolat; coupe au marron; peach, pumpkin, and cherry pies; and chocolate, vanilla, or coffee ice creams."

"Lemon Bavarian sounds lovely," said Pauline. "I'd like some coffee as well. What about you, Petrova?"

"Chocolate ice cream, please, and coffee."

The waiter started to hurry off, but Pauline stopped him: "You have half-bottles of champagne, don't you? We'll have one between us."

"Certainly, madame."

Posy stared at her. "Pauline! Champagne?"

"Why not? It's the right thing to drink at a celebration."

Petrova blinked. "But what exactly are we celebrating?"

"Well, I don't know that a New York hotel restaurant is the right place for our old vow. But I think three new beginnings deserve a toast, don't you?"

"Well, since you've put it that way, I suppose so!"

Posy laughed. "Won't Garnie be surprised ... you know, Pauline, we're terrible sisters-in-law. Here it is, time for afters, and neither of us has asked about Alec once."

"It's only that you know I'd tell you if anything happened to him. As a matter of fact, he's just wrapping up a new picture, 'Red River Rogue.' He'll fly back here next week in time for my opening night. He's been checking on Garnie and Nana for me, too."

"I know Nana loves that! She's always talking up Alec."

Petrova grinned. "Yes, she's always on about what a solid chap he is. How _is_ Nana, Pauline?"

"Fully recovered from that little stroke, as far as I can tell. She's pottering about the house again. Luckily the housekeeper is good-natured about it. And Garnie's found a garden club to join."

The sweets, coffee, and champagne arrived. The waiter, with admirable theatricality, uncorked the half-sized bottle and went through the tasting ritual with Pauline before filling the glasses and passing them out. Posy and Petrova raised theirs and looked expectantly at Pauline.

"You _would_ leave it to me! All right then: here's to health, good times, and more success for us Fossils and all our kin, near and far. And with this toast, I renew our old pledge: we vow to help in any way we can to put Petrova into the history books, because her name is Fossil, and it's our very own, and no one can say it's because of our grandfathers. Cheers!"

Posy gave a yelp of dismay. "Pauline, you said you wouldn't! I wasn't ready!"

Pauline gave Petrova a comical wink: "Looks like I've finally caught her out!"

"Amen!" said Petrova.

 


End file.
